


Daughter of Leviathan

by scorpionGrass



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Political Alliances, Wutai (Compilation of FFVII), Wutai War (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpionGrass/pseuds/scorpionGrass
Summary: Rufus Shinra wants to make things in Wutai right as his first act as President of Shin-Ra, so he sets off on a peace mission, crossing the world and setting sail over the Wutian Channel to make it happen.His plan? To take down the Mako Reactor in Wutai as a gesture of goodwill to start repairing Shin-Ra's relations with Wutai.Yuffie doesn't trust him, so she sics Leviathan on his ship.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

The sea sprays across the deck as waves buffet the ship. The crew works double-time to keep the ship on course, Rufus Shinra in the middle of it all. His white suit is soaked through, his normally carefully put together image thrown into disarray against the elements.

The letter on his desk in his quarters brings a wry grimace to his face, remembering the words of the Wutian Princess who denied him state-approved passage. The letter had been carefully handwritten in the Standard of the main continent, with political and social reasoning as to why they can’t provide aid to Shin-Ra in their endeavours to cross the Wutian Channel, and that they’re amenable to meeting should they visit Wutai. However, at the very end in angry inky black strokes of Wutian script that mismatched the rest, it had read “ _ I’d rather watch you die.” _

It did, however, match the strokes of Princess’ signature at the very bottom.

“As the reports warned, it is indeed Leviathan,” Tseng says calmly over the deafening white noise of waves and the panic of the crew. “Wutai summoned its deity to protect her lands from any further invasion or influence from the military power of the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company.”

“Of course,” Rufus says, lips twisting again.

He doesn’t exactly blame her. There was too long a list of bullshit that his father had let loose on the world in his quest for power through fear, including forcing the construction of a mako reactor in Wutai and turning the once proud country into a battlefield and tourist resort town.

“Maybe we should’ve brought materia,” Rufus says wryly, pushing wet hair out of his face. “Expecting a truce for this trip might have been too much to ask.”

"That may have, in retrospect, been the best course of action,” Tseng says as they turn to walk down into the captain’s quarters.

When the door shuts behind them, lock clicking into place, Rufus faces his personal guard. Tseng’s ponytail has been whipped out of it’s elastic beside him, hair windswept and dripping wet on his shoulders. Reno, Rude, and Elena sit around the coffee table playing cards, all as dry as the wastelands around Midgar.

“Experiencing some turbulence, boss?” Reno asks with some amusement as the cards shift over the table.

“Is there anything we can do, sir?” Elena asks, quickly getting to her feet.

Rufus waves her concerns away. “Nothing at the moment, unless you have some way to calm a sea god.”

“So no heavy artillery?” Rude asks.

“Definitely not,” Tseng says.

Reno snickers. “Guess you’re useless today, Rude. What about you?” he asks, turning to Tseng. “You’re Wutian, you gotta know something about Leviathan."

“I know enough to know only the one who called upon Leviathan can do anything about it,” Tseng says, “and that would be the White Rose of Wutai, Daughter of Leviathan, and Conqueror of the Five Mighty Gods.”

“Three different people were needed to call it?” Elena asks, shocked.

“No,” Tseng corrects her. “Just one with three titles. Guess who.” His eyes slide over to Rufus, who lets out an exasperated sigh.

“That damn Princess.”

It didn’t help the situation that Shin-Ra and its staff weren’t exactly known to be courteous. All the heads of departments had gotten in through sheer nepotism or familial relations (Scarlett being the main offender), and shared his father’s penchant for unnecessary collateral damage. They were all relics from the Wutai War, and kept pushing for a full takeover during meetings. The opposite of what Rufus is vying for.

"So what do you want us to do?” Reno asks after a moment. “‘Cause I don’t think dropping a couple of hot EMRs into the sea is gonna help, somehow.”

“Clearly you’ve thought about this,” Tseng says dryly.

Reno shrugs. “Not a lot to do other than play cards and talk about the raging sea god outside.”

“So there’s absolutely nothing we can do?” Elena asks, brow furrowed in concern as she gathers the cards and begins shuffling them with a kind of restless energy. “I don’t know about these two, but all this waiting while we’ve been knocked around the whole ship really sucks.”

“Agreed,” Rude says.

“Laney’s not wrong,” Reno adds. “Shit’s boring when we can’t fight back without drowning.”

“We should’ve brought a Bolt, at least,” Elena says with a look at the other two. “Better than two hot EMRs.”

“Stop,” Rufus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He already had a headache from the crash of waves and panic outside the warm, dry quarters. “We agreed no materia and no loaded firearms. Bodyguards only, and EMRs are just metal batons when they’re off. Those were the terms. And this is our test, whether we like it or not.”

Tseng nods solemnly at his side. “The Princess is a volatile teenager. Understandably, she only sees the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company as the threat it was to her country in the past. She doesn’t want us making this trip.”

“So she sicced a giant sea serpent on us.” Reno nods. “Makes sense.”

“My father did much worse to them than this,” Rufus says firmly. “Not to mention that we haven’t yet suffered any casualties, so she’s most likely only trying to keep us out rather than actively trying to kill us.”

He was never the pinnacle of the family legacy his father so badly wanted to run the world (though he’d played the part right up until his father was murdered with a sword impaled through his spine). The Shin-Ra Electric Power Company wasn’t known to be nice, by any loose definition of the word, and it was biting all of Rufus’ attempts at good will in the ass.

“So what would you like us to do, President?” Tseng asks, and all four of the Turks look at him expectantly.

“Just get me Reeve,” he says shortly, striding to his desk and sitting in the high-backed chair. “I need to speak with him.”

~

Yuffie stands at the pinnacle of the Pagoda with her hand steadily gripping the spire, above everything but Da Chao itself, and watches over her country. She can see the storm on the outskirts of the island, rain coming down in sheets, waves a thrall against the single Shin-Ra ship that dared to try and enter her domain again after every bit of pain and humiliation they’d caused.

“They’re still trying,” she says, unimpressed.

“Maybe Shin-Ra really is trying to make amends,” Chekhov says from her perch on the edge of the curved roof. “I mean, that letter sounded sincere.”

The letter in question is safely pressed against Yuffie’s chest, in the folds of her modified kimono. Just thinking about it makes her blood boil. “It’s not hard for words to sound pretty. It’s the actions that matter, and Shin-Ra has done nothing but take from us.”

“But they have a new President,” Chekhov reasons. “He might see things differently.”

“He’s got the same blood as the last one.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, and you should know that better than anyone.”

Yuffie scoffs. “Yeah, just because I’m not a drunk failure of a monarch like dad--”

“ _ Yuffie! _ ”

“Whatever,” she says, ignoring Chekhov’s lecture and pulling the letter from her kimono. She unfolds it in its once-crisp thirds, now bent and and worn. It was a letter of intent, describing the wishes of the new President of the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, Rufus Shinra, to mend relations between Shin-Ra and Wutai, and (with her blessing) officially take down the mako reactor in Wutai to start that process on the right foot.

All of what he’d written seemed simple enough, typed out on a printed page of thick stock paper, the Shin-Ra logo acting as a letterhead across the top and Rufus Shinra’s signature at the bottom in an infuriatingly elegant cursive. Yuffie didn’t doubt that the letter had passed multiple editing sessions to get the wording to sound innocuous enough to get her to lower her guard.

She’d thrown it up ten times stronger.

There was no way Shin-Ra would just give up one of its most valuable resources of mako. Not that Yuffie had any intention of keeping the reactor in her country, a giant metal structure that disturbed the peaceful skyline of mountains and tinted everything in its vicinity a foreboding acidic green. But Shin-Ra built them to be confusing, and there was no way she could take it down on her own without a thorough investigation unless she wanted to follow suite with the group in Midgar who liked to blow them up.

But Wutai’s infrastructure has been weak since the war, and explosions aren’t (unfortunately) the answer, as much as it would make her life so much simpler to tag the ugly thing with a bunch of bombs.

Preserving Wutai took precedence.

Yuffie hops down from the pointed top of the Pagoda and onto the ceramic tiling at the edge of the roof. “Council meeting starts soon,” she says.

“You’re actually gonna show?”

“Hell no. Not until everyone stops bowing down to every two-cent Midgardian that shows up.”

“Rufus Shinra isn’t two-cent.”

“Sure he is! He’s a two cent prick with a two inch d--”

“ _ Yuffie! _ ”

She cackles before taking off, swinging down off the Pagoda’s five stories and onto the main street, leaving Chekhov to her boring meeting.

~

Rufus is grateful when the door to his quarters swings open, water sloshing into the room from the main deck before it’s closed off again by Reeve Tuesti. The head of Urban Development was crucial on this trip and in Rufus’ attempts to build a beneficial and respectful relationship between Midgar and Wutai again.

But Reeve, with all of his expertise in surveying land, building infrastructure, and his heavy hand in designing the framework for Midgar to work with the mako reactors on the outskirts of each sector, would know what to do. Or, at least, that’s what Rufus hoped. His expertise may be limited to Midgar, but with Wutai’s reputation as a tourism destination, Rufus is sure that Reeve can get a good enough lay of the land and figure out how to carry out the dismantling of the mako reactor built into the mountains.

Along with some other things, mainly being familiar enough with the maps to figure out how to get to the docks without accidentally slamming into Leviathan.

“You called for me?” His footsteps soak into the carpet, hair dripping onto the padded shoulders of his blue suit, but Rufus hardly cares about keeping up appearances when a gigantic sea god is outside causing them all sorts of trouble.

And his hair isn’t much better (to his unending dismay).

“Yes,” Rufus says, clasping his hands together on the desk. “Please sit, we have much to discuss while the crew attempts to get us to calmer waters.”

“Of course. I assume you didn’t bring me out to Wutai just to try the drinks at Turtle Paradise,” Reeve chuckles. “Though I’ve heard they’re not much to write home about.”

“As have I,” Rufus returns the pleasantries. “You’re right, this matter is much more important than the watered-down drinks at Turtle Paradise. As I’m sure you and every other crew member and passenger has noticed, we’re being attacked by Leviathan, Wutai’s legendary guardian deity. For all intents and purposes, however, it’s from a summon materia that the Princess of Wutai inherited when Emperor Godo stepped down.”

“Yes. Quite scary, though it’s done nothing but throw tidal waves at us to counteract any advance we try to make toward shore,” Reeve says with a solemn nod. “It only spiralled around the bulk of the ship twice, but didn’t actually attempt to snap us in half. It seems like it’s just trying to intimidate us.”

“You arrived at the same conclusion I’ve drawn,” Rufus says, glad to know he was right about Reeve’s uncanny ability to notice what others didn’t. He’s known for keeping away from the main action, preferring to see what’s going on with a level head before acting.

Probably a side-effect from all the land-surveying he does before letting a single shovel, whether ceremonial or construction, hit the dirt. His father had hated that. Reeve had always come up with new safety requirements or researched legislation to prevent his father from carrying out whatever he wanted at the risk of civilians, whether Midgardian or not. But Rufus could appreciate that.

“So,” Rufus says, clasping his hands together, “with all your observational knowledge of the situation, would you say there’s a way to bypass Leviathan entirely?”

Reeve smiles. “Of course there is. After all, a summon can only make a certain part of the area they were summoned in their domain, and the Channel is too wide for it to cover it side-to-side,” he says before leaning in conspiratorially “But wouldn’t you like to take this venture a step further?”

“What did you have in mind?”


	2. Chapter 2

Turtle Paradise is anything but a paradise, but it’s where Yuffie finds herself, secluded in a corner booth with a pot of green tea and a half-empty teacup. The incense that burns on the counter is only there to stifle the scent of tobacco that every patron seems intent on filling the place with. The bartender is a burly guy who waters down the actual alcohol, but no one seems to have a problem with it, least of all Yuffie.

After all, having tourists be disappointed with the beer is the least Wutai can do against the onslaught of mainlanders on Shin-Ra cruise ships who come just to stomp all over their holy grounds and turn Da Chao into a fun hiking trip for the whole family.

“Anything else, Princess?”

Yuffie looks up at the bartender and frowns at the way he’s always managed to make her title sound like an insult. “Nah, not right now. Just leave me to brood over official Wutian business.”

“Of course, Princess.”

Usually, there’s nothing more relaxing than a cup of tea and some alone time, which are both rare when she usually has at least one council member on her back at all times lecturing her about something or another, but today is a rare occasion.

Yuffie can’t relax. Not with that stupid ship out in the Channel.

She takes another sip of tea and wipes the sweat from her brow with a napkin. The Channel used to be for trade, with Wutai’s port acting as a bustling marketplace for spices and fish and talismans, among other things that the mainlanders couldn’t get on their own lands. Now it’s desolate in comparison and half the size thanks to Shin-Ra.

Yuffie stares out the dirty windows of the bar, through the vines that climb over the glass and curl up the columns, and frowns. Rufus Shinra had no right taking up this much space in her head, but he’d taken over her country and that was basically the same thing.

~

The Turks stare at Rufus Shinra. Three of their faces are somewhere between incredulous and baffled, while Tseng’s only tell is the way he’s wringing his fingers under the table. Rufus lets out a sigh and smiles wanly.

“I happen to trust Reeve Tuesti,” he says.

“We trust you, President!” Reno says, scrabbling for words. He’s even sitting up straighter now, instead of slouched and uninterested like he was when Rufus started talking. It’s definitely a change. “But you’re talking about willingly taunting a  _ sea god _ who’s done nothing but splash us a bit! Seems a bit, I dunno,  _ insane _ ?”

The room is quiet, save for the noise outside. The crew just changed shifts and it’s up to a whole new set of hopefully well-rested Shin-Ra employees to get them through the next few hours. Rufus really wishes he hadn’t made any promises about forgoing materia on this trip. Even if the Princess is known to be a pickpocket when it comes to materia, it’s not like they would have brought anything stronger than a Bolt to deal with this had they the foresight. But dreaming in retrospect wasn’t going to get this done.

Rufus swipes his gaze over his Turks again. He watches Elena worry at her bottom lip with her teeth. Rude tries to school his face back into something neutral, but his eyebrows are still deeply furrowed behind his sunglasses.

“We’re just talking to it,” Rufus says in an attempt at reassurance.

“Talking,” Reno sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sure, we’ll just chat over tea with it! Why not.”

“Reno,” Tseng says in that familiar warning tone that Reno’s name always seems to carry. “While the plan may have its risks, it’s not like we haven’t survived worse.”

“Tseng is right,” Elena agrees hesitantly after a long moment, her nervous energy now set on curling strands of her hair around her fingers. “I mean, it sounds scary as hell, but Leviathan is one summon who has a long-standing history with this area, and is the most likely to have been crystallized into materia form in Wutai due to its memories of protecting this place. It’s not impossible to reason with it. After all, we’re on a peace mission.”

“A peace mission that Tseng’s little ‘volatile Princess’ hardly wants happening. You don’t know what kind of intentions she summoned that thing with that it’s working on,” Reno says.

“Leviathan is a god, Reno,” Tseng says. “The Princess may have summoned it, but no one can truly control a god. They have minds of their own. And one with a history like Leviathan would be able to make its own informed decisions to protect Wutai without the summoner around.”

Rude nods. “All we have to do is get its attention. Then you talk?”

“Then I talk,” Rufus affirms.

“Okay,” Rude says.

“It’s not impossible,” Elena says, sounding for all the world like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Reeve Tuesti is not a man who would plan a failure,” Tseng reminds them.

“This is batshit fuckin’ crazy…” Reno mutters.

Rufus presses his lips together in a tight smile. “So it’s settled. We talk to the sea god, Leviathan.”

~

Yuffie is about to pour her third cup of warming green tea when Chekhov bursts through the doors to Turtle Paradise. The frown on her face does nothing to calm Yuffie’s nerves, already set on edge from the amount of energy it’s taking to keep Leviathan out there in the Channel. At least the caffeine from the tea is helping? Maybe?

“How did I know you’d be here?” Chekhov asks.

Yuffie opens her mouth and is immediately shut up with a glare.

“You and I both know that question was rhetorical,” Chekhov says before sliding into the booth across from her. “Your skin is pale and you’re sweating. Staniv was right, you’re draining yourself just to keep Shin-Ra out.”

Yuffie crosses her arms. “Has their ship turned around yet?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll keep draining myself,” Yuffie says. “Maybe drink another ether, since clearly none of you want to help me keep the enemy off our lands. Sacred lands, I should remind you, that they’ve already taken from us once. You know, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“What if they don’t leave, Yuffie?” Chekhov asks. “What then? You can’t stay awake forever just to keep Leviathan out there.”

“I can and I will,” Yuffie says, rooted in determination. “If none of you want to do anything, I’ll shoulder the burden myself. I’ll protect Wutai while Staniv twiddles his goddamn thumbs thinking Shin-Ra of all things in the entire world would ever help us.”

“Yuffie--”

“I am the daughter of Leviathan. I’m his will. And I will keep them out.”

Chekhov sighs. “I told him you’d say something like that,” she says. “But I’m not letting you shoulder anything by yourself. Come back to the Pagoda, we can look after you properly there. Siphon energy, provide focus as the time goes on. Please, Yuffie. We just want to protect you.”

Yuffie stares into her mug, at the tea leaves at the bottom that swirl in lazy circles, at the electric tint on neon from the ether she tipped in. “Fine.”

But when she gets up, her legs fail her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life as an adult (tm) is sure a thing so updates will be near the end of each month~ hope that's alright!!
> 
> and i hope y'all enjoyed this chapter :3


	3. Chapter 3

The crew on the ship has their work cut out for them. All hands are on deck, enough for each member to man each station necessary in case things go south during Rufus Shinra’s audience with Leviathan.

The Turks stand a few paces before Rufus, feet shoulder-width apart and hands clasped together, overseeing the entire operation while simultaneously acting as backup. Rufus crosses the threshold of his office onto the deck, the rain-slicked panels under his leather shoes are slippery, but he walks out confidently regardless of the small inconvenience.

There are much bigger things at play here to worry about than falling flat on his face. Like, dying, perhaps. Or drowning under a tidal wave. Or--

Okay, maybe Reno’s paranoia had gotten to him.

“You ready?” Tseng asks when he joins them.

“As ready as I will be,” Rufus mutters, and with the white noise of waves blanketing the entire ship, he hopes none of his Turks heard the waver in his voice, the uncertainty. He remembers Tseng’s words from earlier, that Reeve Tuesti would never plan a failure, and steels himself. “Let’s get started.”

~

Sweat beads on Yuffie’s skin as Chekhov immediately begins to clear out Turtle Paradise and orders the bartender to bring them ice and whatever first aid kit he has on hand. Her PHS is already speed-dialling everyone on the council for an emergency meeting.

Turtle Paradise spins as Yuffie lays on the cool cobblestoned floor that takes up a chunk of the bar. She tries to focus on the plants growing out of the fountain, reaching toward the ceiling, but she’s so dizzy there’s five of everything, and she can barely read the Wutian characters framed on the walls without her headache making her nauseous.

“Don’t even think about trying to get up,” Chekhov says, standing over her with a glare. “You’ll make it worse.”

Yuffie opens her mouth to bite back, but all that comes out is a groan.

Staniv’s the first to arrive, bursting through the doors with Shake in tow behind him. His stern face is nothing if not thoroughly disapproving, brow furrowed with his permanent frown turning into a scowl that Yuffie can barely make out.

“What did you do?” he asks.

Shake kneels beside her and clasps one of Yuffie’s hands between both of her own. “She was trying to protect us!” she says, immediately on the defensive.

“And going about it in the most irresponsible way possible,” Chekhov says, shaking her head. “She’s been drinking ethers all day trying to compensate for the amount of energy it takes to keep Leviathan summoned out in the Channel.”

“She _what_?”

The bartender finally comes back, a bucket of ice in one hand, along with a basket full of everything needed for compresses in the other. “This good?”

“Yes, thank you. Sorry for making you close early,” Chekhov says, taking both. “We’ll compensate you later, please go home to your family.”

The bartender glances over at Yuffie and nods. “Good luck, princess.”

She’s annoyed that even now it still sounds like an insult.

Chekhov kneels down with Shake and they get to work, pressing ice cubes into Yuffie’s palms and getting a compress together to help her headache. The ice is so cold. It numbs her hands, but already she can finally focus on something, even if it’s just the lack of feeling along her life and heart lines.

“Is anyone going to explain to me why Leviathan is currently in the Channel?” Staniv asks, ears turning red with frustration.

Yuffie watches Chekhov use her magic to tie up the compress, and set it against her temples. It’s cooling, and she can smell the mix of herbs that’s supposed to curb her headache. “Shin-Ra’s visiting. Their ship is out there,” Chekhov explains shortly. “Where the hell is Gorkii?”

“Don’t you know he’s slow?” Shake says with a giggle. Chekhov smiles.

“True,” she says.

“He’s almost here,” Staniv says, showing her the screen of his PHS. “Got caught up with something at the market, but that’s not going to distract me from--”

“Start setting up the candles,” Chekhov interrupts him, and Yuffie is nothing but grateful that she shut him up. “You did bring them, right?”

“Right here,” Staniv says, holding up a pack filled to the brim. “But Leviathan--”

“Set them up on the stones. We don’t want to burn the place down if they hit the wood.”

As if the air quality in Turtle Paradise could get any worse. The candles Staniv brought are specific to rituals, bright red and tapered, with coloured smoke streaming from their flames as he lights each one until there’s a circle surrounding them. Soon, the bar’s usual scent of watered-down booze, incense, and tobacco is replaced by the smell of a forest fire, barely masked by sandalwood.

“You were so adamant against Shin-Ra’s visit that you went to _these_ lengths,” Staniv mutters as he finishes lighting all the candles. “I can’t believe you. Their intentions are to _help_ us, Yuffie.”

Of course, he’d complain while she’s fully incapacitated. Yuffie grimaces, still too dizzy to respond without wanting to throw up.

“Why should we trust them?” Shake asks like Yuffie has a thousand times before. While Shake is too young to remember anything about the war, she’s well aware of the reality they live in now because of it. “Yuffie just wants what’s best for us!”

“At the cost of herself,” Chekhov reminds her. “We may have been in disagreement about whether to welcome them into Wutai, but we should at least hear them out. They’re not even bringing weapons or materia. It’s a peace mission.”

“Weapons aren’t the only way to hurt people,” Shake says, wise beyond her ten years.

The ice in Yuffie’s palms has melted to nothing and it’s only now that she realizes how hot she is, burning up with mana fever. Chekhov presses two new compresses into her palms to replace the ice and whispers a quick prayer that Yuffie can’t make out. Shake repeats it after her.

“If you’re so determined to keep them out, we’ll help you as long as possible, okay?” Chekhov says softly. “But I’m still angry you didn’t ask for help in the first place.”

“I’m angry you didn’t listen to us at all,” Staniv says. He’s about to continue when Chekhov pins him with a glare.

“Ignore Staniv, Chekhov’s right,” Shake says, nodding her head emphatically. “We want to help! The council is here to make sure you never have to do important things alone.”

Yuffie lets out a shaky breath and focuses on the weight in her hands. “Yeah,” she says weakly, and Shake smiles so brightly that Yuffie feels bad for ever doubting their loyalty to her.

“When Gorkii gets here, we’re setting up a meditation circle,” Chekhov says. “We’re gonna siphon off our mana to Yuffie for as long as possible. We all know what happens when a summon is about to fall, so we’re going to make sure she’s prepared for that last burst of energy, if she’s lucid that long.”

“If we don’t succeed, you’ll be out for a week,” Staniv says, coming to sit across from Chekhov, on Yuffie’s other side. His frown is as severe as ever as he shakes his head. “You knew the consequences. You knew, and still you decided to do this by yourself.”

Shake presses the back of her hand against Yuffie’s forehead. “We’ll keep you safe,” she says earnestly.

Yuffie finds Chekhov’s eyes on her and winces at the serene look on her face. It’s the kind of calm that’s before a storm, foreboding and dark. “If you get out of this unscathed, you owe us all big time,” she says.

Even though they’ve been friends since she can remember, always joking and messing around, somehow Yuffie always forgets just how tough Chekhov can be under pressure. When given any kind of responsibility, she stands as tall as the bamboo that grows in her father’s unkempt garden, never bending more than she absolutely has to even in the toughest situations.

Introducing Yuffie to Chekhov is the only good thing her father’s ever done for her.

~

The sea rises, a whirlpool of saltwater like a hurricane about to swallow them whole. Rufus can feel water prick at his skin, like Wutian torture methods he’d only read about, but still he stands his ground, not giving an inch.

The Turks, all at their stations, shoot him various looks. Reno’s face is easy to read, full of curse words, but fear overrides all of it. Rufus remembers too late that it’s because Reno can’t swim, not that anyone can when the conditions are this turbulent. Tseng is the opposite, the furrow in his brow a permanent expression during this trial. Concentration, determination, or doubt, all were options.

Rufus likes the idea of it being trust, but he knows that’s a stretch. As much as Tseng is apt at following orders, there is still a rift in exactly how much any of his Turks trust him after what had happened to their last leader thanks to Rufus’ actions.

The only reason they’d agreed in his office only hours ago is because it was Reeve Tuesti’s plan, and it’s hard to find anyone who doesn’t trust him.

Seawater rushes around them in a heavy pulse, but finally Leviathan makes her appearance, blasting through the wall of water encapsulating all sides of the ship.

“Shin-Ra,” she says, voice layered like angrily crashing waves, echoing in on itself. “What do you seek of me?”

Rufus takes Leviathan in, with her blue scales that shine in every colour, her whip-like fins that lash out against the sides of the ship, and her red eyes filled with rage. Like he’s woken a sleeping dragon protecting its treasures, but instead it’s a sea serpent protecting her home.

“We seek an audience with the leaders of Wutai,” Rufus says, keeping his voice as steady as he can considering just how far the boat rocks side to side with Leviathan’s interference. “We are here on a peace mission to correct the wrongs of the past.”

He’s said it enough times to the executives on Shin-Ra’s board of directors, even if they all opposed him and thought it was a terrible idea. Heidegger didn’t want him tarnishing the Shin-Ra legacy that his father had left behind. Scarlett said something about Rufus being too soft for a big title like “President,” most likely in a bid for him to abdicate the position to her. Palmer said nothing, too busy worrying about whether his lackadaisical version of the Space Exploration department would get another budget cut.

But all the speeches he’d made about Wutai that had fallen on deaf ears came in handy. He didn’t stumble over a single word, the only nervousness coming from the turbulent waters that threaten to overturn the ship, regardless of how vigilant his crew is.

“How noble,” Leviathan says, and Rufus wonders for a second if that’s sarcasm only because it’s in the same tone as before, with nothing giving her thoughts or feelings away. “The last time I met anyone from Shin-Ra, we were at war.”

“A war ordered and carried out under my father’s rule over Shin-Ra,” Rufus says. “I wish to right my father’s wrongs and become allies and equals with Wutai, by taking down the reactor my father put up.”

“Kin of an oppressive tyrant.”

“I see things differently. I see peace between us.”

“I see the unnecessary bloodshed of my people, years of pain to atone for.”

“That doesn’t mean reconciliation is impossible.”

“Shin-Ra will always be unwelcome here.”

Rufus grits his teeth. This isn’t getting anywhere.

~

Gorkii finally walks through the doors to Turtle Paradise, soaking wet and panting from the run. “Sorry I’m late,” he grunts. “Trouble at the market, we had to pack it all up and shut it down.”

“What kind of trouble?” Shake asks, waving him over to their unfinished circle around Yuffie.

“Rough storm coming in,” he says. “Had to help with locking everything down. So we’re performing a mana siphon?”

Chekhov purses her lips. “Yuffie’s the reason there’s a storm. Leviathan’s out in the Channel preventing Shin-Ra’s ship from docking, and she’s suffering from mana fever from the energy needed to keep the summon out.”

Gorkii frowns, but it’s more in understanding than in disapproval like Staniv’s. “Let’s get started,” he finally says. “We can’t waste time.”

Yuffie sucks in a breath, her temperature only getting hotter even with the cooling compresses on her forehead and in her hands. Her skin feels sticky with sweat and her hair is plastered to her neck, itchy and uncomfortable. But all she can get out is another groan, long and pained, and she can feel Shake’s hand stroke her hair in an attempt to soothe her.

“Damn straight,” Chekhov says, closing her eyes. The rest follow suit. “Staniv, lead us in.”

The quiet murmur of prayer streams from Staniv’s lips, and Yuffie watches the coloured smoke from the candles swirl together covering the ceiling like a storm cloud. A wind picks up through the bar, cooling Yuffie’s skin even as her mana burns through its reserves.

“Take a candle,” Chekhov says gently to Shake when Staniv pauses. “And channel your energy into it.”

Yuffie watches Chekhov pick one candle up, holding it firmly in her palm, other hand coming up to cup around the flame. Shake copies her before glancing around at all of them, unsure of what to do as a first-timer.

“Now, listen to us. It’s a simple prayer, as soon as you pick it up, start reciting it with us,” Chekhov instructs her. “You’ll get it in no time.”

“Okay,” Shake says with a nod, though there’s a nervous quiver in her lip. Yuffie attempts a comforting smile at her, but it looks more like a pained grimace.

Chekhov starts them in, the murmur of prayer growing louder as the wind around them picks up even stronger. The smoke continues to swirl above them, colours combining till the ceiling is no longer visible behind a black cloud. The room grows colder, almost uncomfortably so. Yuffie blames it on her fever making anything that's a couple degrees cooler feel like the tundra.

Soon the air crackles with energy, all channelled carefully into the candles, turning their flames a bright green to rival the colour of the mako that spews from the top of the reactor in the mountains. The cool sensation Yuffie feels this time flows through her veins, different from the temperature drop, energizing and minty like the ethers she’d been drinking.

She takes a deep breath and feels her fever subside, if only marginally.

~

Rufus takes a deep breath and wonders how vulnerable and honest he’s going to have to be, in front of the Turks, in front of his entire crew, just to get his sincerity across to Leviathan. He thought he’d done a good job, but somehow repeating the same business-like “political ally” speech he’d given Shin-Ra’s executive board wasn’t helping him in front of the sea god tasked with protecting Wutai.

He’d never been good at expressing feelings. Not like Elena, who's still slowly learning how to hide hers like a true Turk. Not like his half-brother, who’d spent even meeting with him concerning SOLDIER trying to keep a tight leash on his bitterness and anger and jealousy.

Growing up in the Shin-Ra offices, with a ruthless father and an executive board that hardly cared about their own citizens does that, he figures. No wonder he’d been drawn to Reeve, the only man on the board who’d expressed anything and everything he felt, the only one who smiled without pretense.

Rufus holds Leviathan’s gaze, and it takes everything he has not to look away from her red eyes.

“I will help Wutai’s leaders restore their country to the proud, independent nation it was before Shin-Ra’s involvement, to make up for the transgressions of my father. This is my mission, my first act as President of Shin-Ra,” he says. “I have no interest in upholding a family legacy of bloodshed and ruin and disregard for those who live alongside me in this world. I’ll do what I can, with or without your approval.”

Leviathan watches him, red eyes glowing even brighter as she appraises him. “Prove yourself.”

If Rufus thought their situation couldn’t get any more dire, he’s immediately proven wrong.

~

Time passes and Yuffie is sure it’s been hours, but there’s no way to tell. Her back aches from lying on the cobblestoned floor this whole time and her skin has a permanent sheen of sweat from the continued exertion of keeping Leviathan out.

Chekhov and the other’s voices have blended into one, becoming a curtain of white noise separating Yuffie from the rest of the world. She feels drained, even just laying there, and she wonders how much longer they can hold out. Whether Shin-Ra has given up yet and turned tail. If she’ll get out of this unscathed, or if she’ll end up bedridden for a week while her body recovers from mana exhaustion.

The candles are stubs now, nearly spent with wax pooling in the cracks between the stones. When Yuffie looks up, she can see the wax melting over Chekhov’s fingers, though she seems unperturbed by it. She wonders if it hurts, if their hands will all be red from burns tomorrow because of her.

All she wanted was to protect Wutai, and now she watches as they all put everything on pause just to protect her. Even the rude bartender and all the shopkeepers at the port.

“Just a little longer, Yuffie,” Chekhov says softly, though it’s strained.

Anger boils in her stomach at the thought of Chekhov and the others suffering because of her. She wouldn’t have had to go this far if Shin-Ra just stayed away on their own continent in their metal city. It’s their fault she’s doing any of this. It’s their fault her country is in shambles, her father is drunk and sick, and her life is a shell of what it could have been.

Her anxieties spiral till they reach a fever pitch and something cracks inside her.

“How’s your bond with Leviathan?” Staniv asks. “Can you feel anything?”

Suddenly she can feel the pull of the tide, the waves lapping at the port, the storm seizing Shin-Ra’s ship. “Tidal wave,” Yuffie gasps out.

Chekhov’s eyes snap open. “We need to put everything in now. We can’t let Leviathan overtake Yuffie’s mana.”

~

Rufus holds his breath, watching for Leviathan’s finale, the tidal wave that would sweep their ship right into the rocky coast of Wutai’s mountain ranges, splintering their ship into nothing but torn planks and leaving the entire crew to drown. He murmurs a prayer to no one. He takes one more glance at each of his loyal Turks.

Rufus Shinra has never been one to depend on luck and prayers, but he remembers the Princess’ scrawled Wutian on the correspondence letters. _“I’d rather watch you die_ ” and thinks maybe Wutai had the right idea since their sea god is about to capsize his ship.

The crew is frantic, and Rufus doesn’t blame them. It’s his fault the trip turned out like this.

He should have taken the Princess’ threat seriously from the beginning. Shin-Ra took her country, it’s only fair she wants to take his life for it. Even if her anger is misplaced, it’s justifiable.

If there’s anything Rufus is well-versed in, it’s anger, so sharp it could kill. And almost did.

He wonders if it’s too late for a supplication to Leviathan herself, but before he gets to try, all the swirling, raging water that’s built up before them into a massive tidal wave stills and sinks back, levelling out with the sea. The sky clears up like there’d never been a storm. The water is calm. Rufus blinks.

As if to prove the sight is real, Leviathan disperses into mako-like light particles that get swept away by the waves and wind. A bright red materia sinks low onto the deck, floating just feet above the planks, pulsing with the power of the sea god.

Rufus stares at it.

It worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter was fun! structuring this chapter was a nightmare...


	4. Chapter 4

There had only been one ship that had entered the Wutian Channel yesterday, and Yuffie is not happy to see it land in the docks, pulling up against the pier looking like all Leviathan gave it was a nice wash.

Her perch on the Pagoda’s roof was initially just to escape that morning’s meditation practice, something Staniv and Chekhov both insisted on doing to help Yuffie recover from an entire afternoon of mana fever, but she felt fine. Other than a slight headache that persisted at the base of her skull and some very sore limbs, it’s like nothing ever happened.

Or, that’s what she told Staniv and Chekhov at any rate.

Yuffie peers over the trees, tracking the path that leads down to the port. The ship is big, but nothing she hasn’t seen before from trade ships and merchants. It’s definitely not the gigantic cruise liners that she’s read about that cross from Junon to Costa del Sol, that’s for sure. If she squints, she can make out the name plastered on the hull, the S.S. Shin-Ra. Because of course naming the company, government, and military after himself isn’t egotistic enough.

From what Yuffie knows about political peacekeeping trips, they’d most likely wait in the port for her official word on their arrival. Before getting ushered into a meditation session, she’d tried to convince her council that sending them away with a threat would be a great idea, but they’d all turned her down. Even tiny Shake figured they’d made it this far, it’d be rude to turn them away after the trial they’d put them through with Leviathan. So instead, Yuffie’s being forced to simper at them and welcome them as guests into her homeland.

The one they’d ruined before Yuffie even understood that she would be the one leading it.

“Yuffie! Get back in here,” Chekhov stage-whispers at her from the window, but Yuffie hardly cares that she’s been caught.

Instead, she squints at the docks again, watching people come down the gangway. “They’re here, Chekhov,” she says quietly.

“What?”

“Shin-Ra,” Yuffie mutters. “They’re here. I’m going.”

“Wait! You can’t go without--”

Yuffie rolls her shoulders back a couple times, glad to know her body is mostly back in working order save for some overall soreness and dizziness. “Meet me there, then,” she says, before pushing herself off the roof and landing on the dirt below. Her knees protest as she lands, and she hides a grimace. “See you in a few!”

As Yuffie makes her way through the town, her people murmur and whisper amongst themselves. But the idle gossip about her, the ship, or the state of Wutai’s politics doesn’t stop her quick pace, geta clacking against the cobblestoned paths.

“Going somewhere, Princess?” Gorkii, the muscle of her council, blocks the path down to the docks.

Yuffie grimaces. “Yeah, official Wutai business. You know the drill.”

“You can’t go by yourself,” he says, folding his meaty arms across his broad chest. Yuffie rolls her eyes at the intimidation tactic, remembering the time she’d flipped the man on his back. “The others will be here momentarily. We’ll greet them together, in a show of solidarity.”

“Solidarity?” Yuffie says in disbelief. “You’re kidding right? All you guys have done is undermine me about this at every turn--”

“We only think about the future of Wutai.”

“As do I, but you all veto my ideas, your future  _ Empress’  _ ideas, and you want to show  _ solidarity _ ??”

“Yes.” Gorkii’s as stubborn as a rock, as always. “We did it your way yesterday. It’s time to do it our way.”

“Ugh, fine,” she says, and Gorkii takes this as permission to fix her collar, pulling her loosely belted kimono through her obi properly, in a more modest way that covers the tank top she wears underneath it.

When he turns away, she pulls them loose again and shrugs off one of the sleeves to let it fall behind her like the portraits of proud warriors displayed in the Pagoda. She’s not going to be some meek little girl to the company that has a total monopoly on half the world. Not like she was when they first jammed their mako reactor into the mountains.

“We’re here,” Chekhov’s voice breaks the silence, panting with the rest of the council members behind her.

Yuffie watches Staniv struggle to not comment on her state of dress, the armoured headband she tied around her forehead that morning, like she’s going into battle instead of welcoming a potential future ally. Shake, the youngest of them, just smiles and waves sheepishly at her, no doubt nervous about greeting their guests.

“Let’s go,” Staniv finally manages, but Yuffie’s already far ahead of them all.

A crowd has gathered in the port to stare at the foreign ship, emblazoned with the Shin-Ra logo on the side. Yuffie feels like gagging at the sight, but instead attempts to exude an aura of power and grace, so she straightens her posture, pushing her shoulders back and holding her head high. Everything aches, but so long as she looks like she’s fine, it hardly matters. The crowd scatters to let her and her council through, and she’s glad she has at least that much sway even in the presence of Rufus Shinra.

He looks like he does in the photos, strangely flawless with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and a pressed white suit. Like Leviathan hadn’t just put him and his crew through a watery hell. His face is set in a stern expression, but as he notices her presence, he puts on a measured smile and begins to walk toward her. It’s then that Yuffie realizes the wooden cane he’s carrying isn’t just for show. He has a limp he hides fairly well, and the cane helps him along the length of the pier. His four bodyguards, all in stark contrast to him in their black suits, flank him in lines of two.

“So glad to see you made it to our shores safely,” Yuffie says as he draws closer, not trying to hide her distaste. She can feel Staniv glaring a hole through the back of her head, but she doesn’t care. “I hope your trip wasn’t too difficult considering the storm. We had to close down the markets here for the day, but luckily only those in the port here were affected.”

“It’s good to hear it didn’t affect you too terribly,” Rufus replies. “While the journey may have been rough, I’m glad we finally have the chance to meet in person.”

He and his guard bow low in a perfect imitation of Wutian custom. She casts an unimpressed look at her people around her, the council members behind her, all following suit in various bowing positions, some in outright kowtows with their foreheads touching the dirt ground. Cowards.

Yuffie’s smile is painfully saccharine as she gazes back up at Rufus when he straightens up. He has at least a few inches on her in height, and while she suspected that, she’s still peeved about it. “While in the past our tragic fault may have been our pride, my people now have an excess of respect for the average Midgardian,” she says sweetly, crossing her arms over her chest. “But you won’t expect the same treatment from me during your stay here.”

“As you’ve so kindly demonstrated,” he says with a similarly veiled smile, holding out a glowing red materia to her. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Her eyes narrow at the sight of Leviathan’s spirit pulsing bright within the materia. The redheaded himbo with half his shirt unbuttoned behind Rufus grins widely when she reaches out to take it, though the rest of his guard are typically poker-faced and serious. “Thank you for returning what’s mine, for in the past you’ve been known only to take.”

“I believe that was my father’s doing,” Rufus corrects her before holding out his arm. “So, shall we?”

Yuffie huffs out a breath as Gorkii makes an unsubtle gesture to play nice. “Only because you make nice arm candy,” she seethes, quiet enough that no one can hear them.

“Why, thank you,” Rufus says smoothly. “If you’re ever in Midgar, I hope you’ll play that part yourself on your arrival.”

Infuriated, Yuffie reels in the desire to stomp on his foot as they walk past the congregation of villagers, down the well-worn path toward her home, where her father Godo sits on his throne as useless as ever as she does all his hard work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to update this one earlier in the month just because i was super excited about it :3 they finally meet! it's not as long as last chap, but i wanted this to be the focus in this chap after the chaos of last chap~


	5. Chapter 5

The Kisaragi’s palace is right beside the Pagoda, taking up the right side of the road with its ornate architecture. Red lacquered wood makes up most of the structure, with a carefully groomed garden full of arranged stones, tall bamboo, and fragrant flowers surrounding it. It’s beautiful, like something out of a postcard, and the pictures Rufus has seen don’t do it justice.

“So this is the fabled Wutai Palace,” he says, awe in his voice carefully pinned back by his professionalism. It’s a sight better than the rest of the village, which was made up to look like the palace with chipping red paint on rotting wooden planks and potted plants that hardly look hydrated.

He watches as Yuffie nods stiffly, no doubt thrown by the fact that her arm is still in his. Rufus puts on an encouraging smile, half as an actual smile, but also to irritate her further. Her expressions have so far proven fun to watch.

“Yes, it’s quite the spectacle. And unless you planned on staying aboard your ship, you are welcome to,” she scrunches up her nose, “stay here with us during your time here.”

“Oh, how delightful. The hospitality of Wutai has no rival. I am truly honoured,” Rufus says. She rolls her eyes and he pretends not to notice. “While we will surely take up your offer, tonight we shall be sleeping aboard our ship. Since we hadn’t the foresight to bring our luggage with us, of course.”

“That’s fair,” she says, sounding relieved. “So… how long did you say you were staying, again?”

“Oh, I didn’t, but as long as it takes to start mending things between Shin-Ra and Wutai,” Rufus responds. “I’m happy you were so amenable to this visit, despite not being able to help us with the passage across the Wutian Channel.”

“Yeah, amenable,” Yuffie says, and Rufus catches her sarcasm. She’s a riot, and he has to hide an amused smile, turning to admire the stretch of gardens passing them by. He’s never met such an honest politician. Everyone he’s ever met has had a poker face, whether it worked or not, but the young Princess has no such thing in her arsenal.

“That is,” she corrects herself quickly, “the people of Wutai believe it is time to let the past be and start paving the way toward a more peaceful future.”

“So does Shin-Ra,” Rufus agrees. “I’m delighted to start working with you in this endeavour.”

She bristles. “Yeah, so, anyway. Let’s all go in,” she says awkwardly. “I’m sure my father is dying to meet you.”

Two Wutian guards are posted at the entrance to the palace, wearing ornamental armour no doubt for the tourists that stop by during peak season, and they slide open the paper doors for them. Rufus takes one last breath of the mountain air before stepping over the threshold, ready to meet the Emperor himself.

~

The scent of freshly cooked rice is the first thing Yuffie notices when they enter the palace, with its delicate oiled paper walls and wooden floors. She has no doubts that while she was passed out yesterday, Staniv was making sure everything would be prepared  _ just right _ for their Shin-Ra guests, and she’s kinda grateful.

Hospitality is everything in Wutai, as much as she’s loath to admit it, and Yuffie doesn’t want the entire planet knowing she’s the one who dropped the ball. Sometimes, her council really does have her back.

They head as one big group to the dining room, where a low table greets them full of Wutian delicacies set over heating pads to keep them warm. The chef even made some of Yuffie’s favourites, no doubt also a request from Chekhov. If she has to sit through this awkward meeting-dinner thing, she might as well be stuffing her face with something yummy (and by stuffing her face, she means attempting to eat properly like a real Princess, of course).

“The Emperor will join you shortly,” one of the attendants tells Yuffie as she watches both their company and her council file into the room.

“Thank you,” Yuffie says. “We’ll start when he arrives.”

She sits down to the right of the head of the table and gestures for Rufus, as their esteemed guest, to sit across from her, only because Staniv continues to glare at her until she does. Yuffie’s already tired of diplomacy, but she knows more than her own grudge rides on this awful meeting.

She’ll suck it up. For now.

“As you know, this is my council,” Yuffie says, gesturing to the entire right side of the table, mentally pulling up the introductions Staniv made her memorize. “We make up the Five Mighty Gods of Wutai’s Pagoda, protecting the people and their interests by representing the different clans that make up our country. This council is the reason we decided as a group to go ahead with peace negotiations with Shin-Ra.”

“I see. Then it is all of you who I should thank for trusting me to step foot on your soil,” Rufus says, and Yuffie is annoyed at how natural he is at all of this. “I look forward to getting to know you all as we work together.”

“We too look forward to getting to know you and the new Shin-Ra under your leadership,” Yuffie says, remembering Chekhov’s insistence that things will be different this time. She hopes to Leviathan she’s right.

“Well, you’ll definitely be meeting some key people at Shin-Ra during this venture. They are currently still on the ship, but I have brought my retainer of bodyguards,” Rufus says. “They’re here for my safety, barring any remaining hostility that some Wutians may have for Shin-Ra, but they’re useful beyond that as well.”

Yuffie knows all about that. The covert missions and outright black ops they carry out in the shadow of Shin-Ra. She glances at the row of them and scowls at the sight of the man directly beside Rufus Shinra. The mark on his forehead is a Wutian custom, along with his long uncut hair, but he doesn’t look like a native. Not in the way he kneels at the low table, shifting every so often like he’s uncomfortable being in that position for so long.

“What is your use, then?” Yuffie asks him directly, feigning polite curiosity. “Translator?” she guesses after a moment. “No… we all know Standard, thanks to the Midgardian occupation, so there’s no need for that…”

She feels Chekhov’s gaze on her, hears the silent plea to “please play nice,” but she ignores it (as usual). Instead, Yuffie smiles into the silence and watches him adjust his legs again with a kind of smug satisfaction.

“What use would a traitor be on a peace mission, I wonder,” she finally says, letting her head rest on her hand and tilting her head. “A mystery.”

The redhead coughs loudly into the crook of his arm in a failed attempt to hide a guffaw. The grin he barely hides is a win in Yuffie’s books. The broader man beside him adjusts his sunglasses, and Yuffie wonders if he ever takes them off. The blonde lady just straightens her posture, fiddling with the set of chopsticks before her.

“We are a team within the company who works closely with the President on many company projects, including this one,” the traitor finally says, though his gaze is set on the table. At least he has the courtesy not to meet the eye of the Princess he betrayed.

“So we’re just a pet project to you?” Yuffie asks.

He doesn’t get a chance to explain further because the Emperor finally makes his appearance, the servants sliding open the doors open for him. Yuffie smiles again at Rufus as they all stand, waiting for her father to take his seat at the head of the table. Rufus returns the smile, but she thinks they both know who takes the round this time.

~

“So, what do you think about the Princess?” Rufus asks after they’ve settled back on to their ship for the night and congregated in the common room.

The coffee table in the middle of the room has become akin to their conference table at Shin-Ra headquarters, and out of habit more than anything else they end up taking their usual seats, with Rufus at the head of the table and Tseng on his right with Elena. Reno and Rude take up the other side.

“My opinion is the same, she’s a volatile teenager,” Tseng says. “She greeted us in battle gear. It’ll take a lot to gain back her trust.”

Reno snickers. “You’re just bitter ‘cause she called you a traitor.”

Tseng ignores him. “She can’t take over the throne yet, not until she’s either eighteen or the Emperor passes away, but so far she has shown herself fully capable of those responsibilities. It also helps that her council, despite their differing values, respects and trusts her naturally.”

“He’s not wrong,” Elena says. “She’s sixteen, we should give her some credit that she’s even able to take over for the Emperor right now in his current state.”

“You mean old and drunk?”

“ _ Reno. _ ”

“What, Chief, it’s  _ true _ ,” Reno says. “He’s old and useless compared to her. At least she’s got an attitude and shit to say. All the Emperor had were some grovelling thank yous, and that got tired quick. No wonder he lost the war.”

“He was once one of the Five Mighty Gods,” Tseng interrupts. “Though in recent years, Yuffie has earned her place among them and effectively replaced him. They’re a strong people, the only reason we won is because of SOLDIER and their enhancements.”

Reno shrugs. “Fair, I guess, but that doesn’t explain why he’s so useless now. It’s not like he’s on his deathbed.”

A silence falls over the table and Rufus grimaces.

“Rude,” Rufus starts quietly, “you haven’t said anything yet. What do you think?”

Rude clears his throat and adjusts his sunglasses uncomfortably. “The little girl, Shake, told me that while being a member of the council and one of the Five Mighty Gods is an honour, the toll it takes on the body to become a vessel is harsh.”

“What--”

Rufus holds up a hand, effectively silencing Reno. “What else?”

“The spirit that inhabits her keeps her alive,” Rude continues, “filling in the gaps that it takes up. But once that connection is severed in order to pass on to the next member… something like the Emperor happens.”

“Like, on paper he’s the acting Emperor, but in reality he’s a figurehead who’s on bedrest?” Reno asks.

There’s a pause just long enough for them to digest that new information before Elena speaks up again.

“How old is Shake?”

“Ten,” Rude answers, and Elena gasps. “She mentioned something about her clan wanting more sway in the council, and their best chance at having a long-term seat was to send someone young to go through the Pagoda’s trials. Shake was chosen two years ago.”

“Typical,” Tseng mutters.

“Fascinating,” Rufus says with a smile. “And all this after less than half a day in Wutai. Good work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn makes u wonder what spirit inhabits yuffie huh ;3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a bit of a filler chapter with the Turks! They're on surveillance duty. Enjoy!

Reno yawns, stretching out on his bed on the ship before peering over the side, looking down at his partner on the bottom bunk. Rude’s already fully dressed and ready for the day, sunglasses perched on his nose, flipping through the notifications on his PHS.

“Yo, partner,” Reno says, still sleep-addled. “What’s the sitch?”

Rude tilts his head back with a grin. “Surveillance and recon.”

Reno grins back. “So we got the day off. Lucky.”

After the incredibly long and boring dinner (punctuated only by the Princess’ consistent under-the-table jabs at the President) and whatever the hell happened with Leviathan out in the Channel, Reno is fully down for a day off. He deserves a day off. Even if it is in the shittiest tourist town he’s ever seen.

“Tseng is with the President,” Rude informs him.

“And Elena?”

“Who knows. She got bored waiting for you to wake up.”

Elena’s time on the job so far is a whopping two months, with most of it bench-warming at the office, sorting through unfinished administrative bullshit that Tseng had pulled out of god-knows-where to keep her busy. She’s new and not that great at keeping her mouth shut, but she’s made herself a valuable asset and gets along with all of them like she’s known them forever. But having her out in Wutai alone? As a Shin-Ra representative?

“We should find her,” Rude says, reading his mind.

“Yeah, yeah,” Reno says, rolling his eyes. “Gimme a few.”

~

It doesn’t take long before they’re on the gangway, salt on the air as they make their way down the docks to the marketplace. The Wutian folk manning the stalls and shopping in the bazaar hardly try to hide their stares as Reno and Rude pass through, completely out-of-place in their black Turk suits.

“Wanna stick around? Maybe she’s shopping,” Reno suggests, holding up a trinket one of the stalls is selling.

“Good recon, too,” Rude says with a wry smirk. “Anything goes today.”

Reno puts one thing down for another, a paper charm with Wutian script on it. The calligraphy of Wutai has always been pretty, but something about the bright red border is so… off-putting. Leave it to that tacky slum-dweller back in Sector 6 to turn Wutian anything into a sick reminder of Wall Market.

“Gonna buy anything?”

Reno shrugs. “Dunno,” he says, setting it down just as quickly as he picked it up.

It doesn’t take the two long to figure out that the bazaar is divided into sections with not-so-strict delineations. Souvenirs are closest to the docks, but further in there were stalls and shops full of clothes and jewelry, along with a fair share Wutai’s most popular exports. The furthest inland, however, is the food. Reno hears his stomach groan at him at the first sniff of street meat, and he latches onto Rude’s arm, dragging them through till he could find the source.

“Hungry, partner?” Reno asks, eyes roving the different stalls. Noodles, meat kebabs, and something akin to pancakes all looked good after he’d skipped breakfast. “We have  _ got _ to try all of this shit!”

He’s already in front of the first stall, serving trays of six little balls of something that smelled delicious. “Yo, ‘keep! What are these?”

The cook looks up and smiles. “Takoyaki, they’re fried batter filled with squid,” he says, most likely used to this question from tourists.

“I have no idea what that is, but I’m getting some,” Reno says, shooting a grin at Rude and getting his wallet out. “We can share!”

A few minutes later, Reno’s arms are loaded with takoyaki, yakitori, and yakisoba, with Rude trailing after him carrying a gigantic bowl of kakigori (which according to the stall owner, was flavoured shaved ice, which sounded akin to an edible slushie like the ones they sold at Midgar corner stores and Reno had gotten way too excited about that).

A cleared area in the middle of the stalls had picnic tables set out for customers and they sat down, taking a break from their “reconnaissance.”

“Goddamn, if Wutai ain’t got good food,” Reno says happily, snapping a pair of wooden chopsticks apart. “I think the last time I had good Wutian takeout was back in the slums, but it hardly smelled this good!”

Rude adjusts his sunglasses. “Yeah, they really tone it down in Midgar,” he says after he ponders over a bite of yakisoba. “Can never beat the real thing.”

They eat in silence, listening to the chatter of the marketplace and the folks who speak in mixed Wutian and Standard, catching familiar words along with the more musical dialect of the country. So far there’s been no sign of Elena’s blonde hair between all the Wutian natives, but there are only so many places in a small-town tourist destination that she can go.

After all, crossing from the docks to the palace yesterday was an easy walk.

Reno wonders what the President could be up to, whether he’s with the Princess or already checking out the Reactor with Tuesti. The President and Tseng always held their cards close, and while Reno didn’t always like feeling left out (with as much clearance as being a Turk held), it was a normal occurrence for him and Rude to be left on the sidelines until further notice. Providing support, carrying out orders, doing… surveillance.

“Did the Boss say what we’re looking out for?” Reno asks, finishing off the tray of takoyaki.

“Nope,” Rude responds. “Just get to know Wutai. It’s changed a lot since the war, they probably just don’t want to be blindsided by how outdated the prejudice and old ideas that circulate Midgar can be.”

“Then we can tell ‘im the street food’s fucking fantastic,” Reno grins.

~

Somehow, they find Elena. She’s browsing through a rack of brochures by a souvenir stall, all detailing different tourist attractions that Wutai has to offer. Her lips are twisted, brow furrowed in deep thought as she turns the page to a booklet about Da Chao, the Wutian deity carved into the mountainside that overlooks the entire island.

Reno sidles up to her. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Elena jumps, shoulders shooting up to her ears, before aiming a glare at him. “I’m doing research,” she says coolly. “Doing my job while you were sleeping.”

Reno rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Well, find anything interesting?”

Elena glances back down at the booklet, fingers splaying the pages open for Reno to see. “Shin-Ra desecrated holy grounds with the Reactor,” she says. “They demolished an entire temple, said to have been blessed by their deities with a mako fountain, just to build it.”

The booklet words it differently, in favour of Shin-Ra’s “discovery” and subsequent technological feats, but the gist is the same and Reno frowns.

“Harsh,” Rude says beside them.

“There’s layers to why the Princess is so angry. It’s not just the war. It’s her parents, the Reactor, the temple. It’s a lot to unpack,” Elena adds. “I hate to disagree with Tseng, but she’s not just a volatile teenager. She’s justified with a cause.”

She says it like it’s new information, but maybe Reno’s just too jaded by the way Shin-Ra twists the truth. Propaganda became an art form in Shin-Ra’s Public Relations department during the peak of the war, and lies became the brunt of the news that circulated Midgar and the surrounding areas. Elena’s just new. She wasn’t around when the President’s dad was in charge.

Well, she was. But she didn’t work for him yet. She doesn’t know how deep the well goes (but Reno suspects she has a good idea).

“Hey, why did she call Tseng a traitor?” Elena asks after a long moment, looking up at Reno and Rude. “I mean, other than because he works for Shin-Ra.”

“Funny story, that,” Reno says.

“Tseng helped lead an operation that took out one of Wutai’s main strongholds during the war,” Rude says. “His name wasn’t household like Sephiroth’s or anything. Far from it. But according to reports from a First Class SOLDIER who’d been there, the Princess had been at the site. She saw him.”

“And you know Tseng,” Reno adds. “He doesn’t fuckin’ age, so he looks the same. Hair’s longer though.”

Elena nods, folding the booklet and slotting in back into the rack. “Well, I guess we have our work cut out for us.”


	7. Chapter 7

Rufus Shinra spends breakfast at the Wutai Palace on the Emperor’s insistent request. As if dinner hadn’t been enough of a trial the night before. Maybe Reno had a point: the Emperor is exhausting to listen to when all he does is thank him. Luckily, Rufus had the foresight to bring along Reeve Tuesti.

Who had, of course, brought along his robotic cat AI.

Emperor Godo Kisaragi is enthralled by the cat, with its realistic coat of fur and shiny gold crown. It’s Kalm accent is grating on Rufus’ ears, but the servants and Emperor alike are amused and the AI eats up the attention.

“Cait Sith is going to be a valuable asset,” Reeve had assured him on the walk to the palace. “You’ll see.”

Rufus severely doubts that.

Rufus holds his polite smile in place as servants place small bowls of rice and miso soup onto their placemats. A platter of grilled fish sits in the middle of the table, along with dishes filled with natto, native fruits, tofu, and rolled eggs. He ignores the cat and waits for the Emperor to take his first bite so he can follow. Somehow, he thinks it might take a while. The Emperor is too enamoured by Cait Sith to care about the steaming hot bowls of food right in front of him, even though their strong scents waft through the dining hall.

“So it has its own personality?” Emperor Godo asks.

Reeve nods. “Yes, I designed Cait to be able to run by himself when I’m not overseeing any of his operations. He allows me to be present in places I can’t physically go and makes a fun companion when I’m pulling all-nighters at the office.”

Rufus’ stomach growls softly and he distracts himself with the memory of finding Reeve asleep at his desk, waking up with his keyboard imprinted onto his cheek. Cait Sith had run out of batteries that night, and Reeve had immediately found a more reliable energy source to make sure that scene would never get a sequel.

Emperor Godo smiles and asks one of the servants to set up a spot just for the cat. Rufus suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. He’d only invited Reeve because he’s the one genuinely likable and kind person on Shin-Ra’s entire board of directors. Rufus knows Reeve will be a key piece in getting Wutai to re-evaluate their views on Shin-Ra as a corporation. He’s too nice to hate, too transparent with his emotions to have any kind of agenda. He’s the exact opposite of the Turks, and after the stilted dinner last night, Rufus is absolutely sure he needs to include Reeve in more than just the deactivation and dismantling of the Reactor.

“Please, dig in,” Emperor Godo finally says.

Rufus tries not to look relieved as he lifts the bowl of cooling miso soup to his lips. It’s salty, too salty for his tastes, but he doesn’t care. It’s food. He’s hungry. He hasn’t had coffee yet, and suddenly he’s concerned whether coffee is even on a Wutian breakfast menu.

The servants choose that moment to fill their cups with green tea and Rufus’ question is answered. He’s severely disappointed. Now he has to survive breakfast with the most important man in Wutai  _ and _ listen to Cait Sith crack bad puns without caffeine.

His perfect image is nothing without caffeine. Suddenly, he’s even more grateful that the Princess isn’t here to see him in this sorry state.

At least Reeve is a good conversationalist, so Rufus doesn’t need to talk much. He continues to regale Emperor Godo with stories, Cait Sith piping up now and then like they’re some comedy routine. A ventriloquist and his puppet, except that Cait Sith learns quickly and is running fully on his AI today without Reeve’s input. Rufus watches the cat use his chopsticks to drum a quiet rhythm on the table. He sighs.

This is going to be a long breakfast.

~

Yuffie’s sitting on the roof of the Pagoda when Rufus arrives with only one of his black-clad posse. Another man is with him too, in a sharp blue suit and bright red tie. He’s holding a cat in his arms, with black and white fur, a red scarf, and a shiny golden crown. She wonders if it’s a stuffed toy and why some Shin-Ra suit would carry one around.

She doesn’t have long to ponder that thought. The bodyguard doesn’t enter the palace with the President, instead continuing down the path toward her. Toward the Pagoda.

Yuffie scowls, pushing herself off the roof and landing on the dusty cobblestones in front of him. She draws herself up to her full height and folds her arms imposingly across her chest. “This is a holy place. What business does a traitor have here?”

He’s calm, unfazed by her on all accounts, and it’s infuriating. “I was asked to meet with the Council today in order to talk about how we can best aid Wutai now that we’re here,” he says.

“And does the Council know to expect you, or did you just invite yourself?”

He clasps his hands behind his back and smiles. “Last I heard, the Pagoda is open to the public.”

Yuffie grits her teeth. “To the people of Wutai. Not outsiders. It’s not a tourist attraction,” she says. “In fact, it’s the only thing Shin-Ra didn’t turn into a tourist attraction. You can have your pick from everything else.”

“If I pick somewhere else, would you and your Council agree to meet with me?”

“Depends,” Yuffie says, watching him carefully, “are you gonna betray our trust like you did at Fort Tamblin? Sell your information to the highest bidder? Turn around and raze the rest of my home to the ground because you didn’t get it all the first time?”

“My intentions are to atone through aid,” he says, so neutral that Yuffie wants to grab his face and make it do something. Anything. “If you wish to speak to someone else, I can arrange that.”

“They all answer to you, though, don’t they?”

“And we all answer to the President, Rufus Shinra. I’m sure he’s made his intentions clear.”

Yuffie gives him another once-over, watching his hands casually adjust his cuffs. He’s pretty in the way that Wutian men are traditionally expected to be, with long straight hair and sharp features, except he’s dressed in the designer suit of the enemy. She wonders which family he belonged to and if they’re still around, or if they uprooted themselves from Wutai and moved to Midgar. Maybe they’re dead.

“In that case,” she says after careful consideration, “I’d rather speak to blondie. I’ll meet with her and no one else.”

His friendly smile, practiced to look so natural, tightens. Yuffie smiles back. Finally, a real emotion on his bland face.

“If you have concerns, by all means, have someone else sit in on the meeting,” she says. “But only as an observer. No input. I’ll have a member of my Council with me to observe as well.”

He nods, though the movement is stiff. “I will notify the President and Elena of your request, and ask for a volunteer observer. When and where would you like to speak?”

“Here. In the Pagoda,” Yuffie says with a smirk. “All important decisions regarding the future of Wutai are discussed here. Peaceful negotiations with future allies should be no different. Tomorrow, Elena can join us for lunch at noon.”

With that, Yuffie turns on her heel and walks back into the Pagoda.

~

“Please tell me they have real coffee on this island,” Rufus Shinra says when it’s nearly noon and breakfast is finally over and Emperor Godo has finished waving jovially to Cait Sith.

He’s tired, so tired, and he’s sure his posture looks terrible and his eyebags have eyebags, but what he’s most upset about is that even his hair feels lifeless and flat against his forehead in the searing Wutian heat. He slides his eyes over to Reeve, whose hair looks fine, and tries his best not to be bitter about that.

“We could always brew some back on the ship,” Reeve suggests, adjusting Cait Sith in his arms. “What were your plans after breakfast?”

“I don’t know. Meet with Tseng, see if he’s made any progress with the Council, drink coffee, take another shower,” Rufus says with a groan. “How the hell does anyone live in this heat?”

Reeve chuckles. “How many layers are you wearing again, Rufus?”

“Shut up.”

It’s a known fact that Rufus’ prefers looks that involve layers on layers of white, all belted and buttoned together to create a formidable silhouette of professionalism and power, but he never thought the fashion choice would bite him so squarely in the back. Right now he feels less formidable and more like melting vanilla soft-serve. Suddenly, he craves the sweet release of Leviathan’s tidal wave.

“I suggest we go back to the ship,” Reeve says. “We can get some coffee down you and take a look at your closet and see if there’s anything more… weather appropriate? You can tackle all the politics with Tseng later.”

“You’re right,” Rufus says, pulling his PHS out of one of his many pockets and checking his messages. He’d refrained from doing so in the presence of the Emperor, but now is as good a time as any to catch up.

Shin-Ra’s internal emails have been piling up, and Rufus swipes all of them away to find his texts to find that Tseng had messaged him shortly after they’d parted that morning. It’s a bona fide wall of text for a man who normally crams as much information in as little words as possible, and Rufus turns the brightness up on his screen so he doesn’t have to squint at it all.

_ >> The Princess did not wish to meet with me so I was unable to find out more about what they want from our peace negotiations. She requested that Elena be the representative that speaks with her tomorrow at noon at the Pagoda. _

_ >> Elena is still new to Shin-Ra. We will have to prepare her for this meeting. _

_ >> We also need a non-contributing, impartial observer to accompany her. Again, it cannot be me. Who would you like to send with her? _

“Fuck,” Rufus says.

Reeve looks at him curiously. “What now?”

Rufus is too tired to explain. Instead, he simply says, “I need caffeine first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucking love reeve tuesti and his robotic cat ai cait sith that is all


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many doubts about this chapter, but at the same time I love it so much?? so I hope you do too!

When Elena’s phone rings out, loud and piercing and only slightly obnoxious as they all peruse through more of the tourism brochures, Reno and Rude shoot confused looks at her.

She’s just as bewildered as they are as she pulls her PHS from her pocket and sees  _ Rufus Shinra _ emblazoned on her screen, along with the company-mandated photo that snapped him with coiffed hair and a neutral expression that has never been so intimidating as it has in this moment.

“Why’s he calling  _ me _ ??” she asks, panicked.

“Answer it ‘Laney!” Reno says, gesturing wildly at her.

She stares at her PHS for another second before Rude takes it upon himself to swipe it from her hands and answer for her. “Rude speaking,” he says, listening for a moment before nodding and passing the PHS to Elena. “It’s for you.”

“I mean he called  _ her _ ,” Reno says exasperatedly.

Elena holds her PHS up to her ear. “Hi, it’s Elena.” She doesn’t squeak, but she may as well have with the way Reno rolls his eyes and Rude looks away for a moment.

“ _ Good. I need you back at the ship ASAP. We need to debrief you on an assignment of utmost importance. _ ”

She blinks, eyes blowing wide in disbelief. Her? On an assignment of utmost importance? Is he out of his mind? “Have… um, have you had your coffee, sir?”

“ _Yes. Finally,_ ” he says, words filled with disdain. “ _Please just come back, I don’t know how long this is going to take and the sooner we get started the better._ ”

“What’s the assignment?”

There’s a moment of silence that sets Elena’s nerves on fire. An important assignment? In Wutai? Is he sure he doesn’t want Reno or Rude for the job? She only ever gets the slush pile of cases that are low priority enough that if she screws up grandly, it hardly matters. She’s not ready for this, not at all. Elena’s never wanted President Shin-Ra to talk Reno’s “rookie” jokes so seriously in her entire career thus far.

Finally, the President sighs. “ _ The Princess wishes only to speak to you specifically concerning our work here. Therefore, you are Shin-Ra’s ambassador while we are here and until further notice. This makes you integral to our success in repairing our relations with Wutai. See you soon. _ ”

Before Elena can even begin to process any of that, Rufus Shinra has already hung up.

“So,” Reno says, propping himself up on her shoulder with an elbow and leaning in close, “what did he want?”

The colour drains out of Elena’s face. “The Princess wants to speak to me.” If she hadn’t squeaked before, she definitely did now.

Rude’s eyebrows shoot up to his non-existent hairline.

Reno outright stares at her like she’s grown a second head. “I, uh, didn’t quite catch that ‘Laney?”

“We need to go. To the ship. We. I,” she corrects herself, stuttering and freezing up. “I need to go. Now.”

Reno and Rude exchange a look before nodding at each other. “We’ll walk you back,” Reno says, putting his hand on her shoulder in what Elena reads as an attempt at comfort.

“Let’s go,” Rude says.

~

Elena feels under-prepared and nervous as all hell. Possibly more nervous than she was when they all faced down the Princess’ Leviathan summon without materia. Definitely more nervous than she was when the President first announced that her first mission as part of the Turks would be to accompany him to Wutai.

The meeting with Rufus Shinra had taken hours, and it was unanimously decided that Rude would accompany her to the meeting as an observer. Elena had to cram so much information into her brain that she thought her head would explode, but somehow she’d woken up this morning with nothing but the eerie nirvana of someone headed to the gallows.

Now, she stands in front of the Pagoda, Rude at her back, and hopes her death will be painless and quick.

“It’s just a meeting,” Rude reminds her.

“Sure it is,” she says, straightening out her suit and correcting her posture.

The doors of the Pagoda open in wide arcs and out steps the Princess, Yuffie Kisaragi, along with one of her council members. Elena can’t remember her name, but she hardly cares when the Princess is staring her down despite being the shorter one.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to join us for lunch,” the Princess says with a bright smile. “Please come in.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” Elena says, dipping in an awkward bow before following her over the threshold. “And for inviting me to lunch, Princess Kisaragi.”

“Oh, ew, formalities. You can just call me Yuffie, no titles necessary.”

Elena has no idea whether this is a test or not but decides she is too stressed to take anything at more than face value. “Of course, Yuffie.”

“And what can I call you?”

“Elena.”

Yuffie nods and gestures inside. “We’ll be eating up on the top floor,” she says. “Then we’ll be having our afternoon meditation. Maybe after that, we can talk about what your boss wants so badly to discuss.”

Another test? Elena knows the Princess is infamous for her informality and disregard for strict tradition, as well as her loud hatred of Shin-Ra, but she cannot parse her words much further than that. “I’m honoured you want to include me in your traditions,” she says, following Yuffie inside and up the first flight of stairs.

The Pagoda is tall, and each floor is decorated with tatami mats covering the floors and weapons lining the walls. Only when they reach the top floor does Elena realize each floor is representative of each of the council members, their weapons of choice, and their rank. The top floor is much the same, but the weapons lining the walls are shuriken of all kinds and sizes and almost nothing else. There’s a round, low table in the middle, filled with aromatic Wutian cuisine. It smells delicious.

“Is your muscle eating too?” Yuffie asks, kneeling down at one of the spots and patting the pillow beside her. “He can sit with Chekhov.”

Elena nods, sitting with her. “Thank you for allowing me to join you.”

Yuffie waves her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Not like your boss would take no for an answer,” she says. “He’s so demanding for a guy who betrayed us.”

Elena and Rude exchange a glance, knowing exactly what she’s referring to. “You're speaking of Tseng, right?”

“Ugh, that’s his name?” Yuffie asks, taking Elena’s plate and piling it with dumplings and noodles. “As if he wasn’t already pretty, he has to have a good name too? Gross. Literally the worst. You totally have a crush on him too.”

Elena feels her face heat up. “What?”

“The way you look at him,” Yuffie says, like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb. “I’m not blind. You spent the entire dinner the other day either staring at him or staring at your plate. He’s totally not worth it, though. He’s in love with his job.”

Rude clears his throat.

Chekhov is the one who speaks up, voice soft but stern. “Yuffie, aren’t we supposed to be talking about--”

“It’s lunch, Chekhov, relax,” Yuffie interrupts, taking the teapot on the table and pouring green tea for all of them. “And anyway, how are we supposed to negotiate anything if we don’t get to know each other first?”

Elena is almost afraid to agree with her, floundering in the fact that she’s that obvious to a literal stranger, but Yuffie has a point. She makes the executive decision to go off-script. After all, this isn’t the kind of meeting Rufus or Tseng expected at all.

“You’re right, he really is in love with his job,” she says. “We’re always told to put the mission first, and he’s basically the epitome of that. I hardly know what he does when he isn’t working. I kinda doubt he has hobbies?”

“I bet he’s a virgin too, with that stick up his ass,” Yuffie says, and Elena nearly chokes on her tea. “Nothing wrong with that, but he like, definitely gives off those vibes. Like he has no chill.”

“He really doesn’t,” Elena agrees, careful not to glance at Rude to avoid any judgment he might send her way. “He’s kind of just… pretty.”

“And pretty boys are pretty disappointing,” Yuffie says. “Trust me. Dad tried to set me up a few times to secure my rule and officiate me as Empress, but all the guys he introduced me to were so lame. If they were pretty, then they had no personality. Like, I know it’s a political marriage, but at least be able to hold a conversation, you know?”

“Aren’t you only sixteen?” Elena asks. “Is it a Wutian custom to marry early?”

“Kinda? Not really,” Yuffie answers. “I think it’s just me. Most wealthy families wait till the girls are at least eighteen for political stuff, though the regular townsfolk wait longer. But since I had to take the mantle early, dad’s pushing me to at least meet people. Royal dates are  _ so  _ boring. I bet normal people don’t have old chaperones or like fifty etiquette rules for serving tea.”

“Is it tough being a princess?” Elena asks.

“Sometimes,” Yuffie says, before stuffing an entire dumpling in her mouth, a huge shift from the polite tiny bites she’d had during their dinner. Finally, she swallows. “I think the hardest thing is knowing my people expect me to bring them back into a golden era. Hard to do, when Shin-Ra took everything.”

Elena grimaces. “I'm sorry,” she says. “I know saying that heals nothing, but…” She hesitates, glancing at Rude for a moment before looking back at Yuffie. “For what it’s worth, I know what Shin-Ra did was wrong and I really am here because I think we can make a difference.”

“You think?” Yuffie asks, brow furrowing. “Aren’t you just another one of Shin-Ra’s suits?”

Elena almost laughs. “I’m the new girl. I was only hired a couple months ago, straight out of high school, and they’ve only ever given me paperwork. I’m hardly indoctrinated.”

“Wait, then how old are you?”

“Almost nineteen.”

Yuffie’s eyes blow wide. “Really? I thought you were like, in your twenties?”

This time, Elena does laugh. “Nope! I’m eighteen, with a stupid schoolgirl crush on my pretty boss.”

It takes a moment, but Yuffie’s face splits into a grin and she starts laughing. “Well if it helps, at least you’re not on his bad side. I think I pissed him off yesterday because his eye actually twitched.”

Elena practically giggles. “Wow, it’s hard to get a reaction out of him! He’s so…”

“Stoic?” Yuffie supplies. “Annoying neutral?”

“Exactly.”

They eat in silence for a moment, and Elena has stopped being surprised at just how much she enjoys Wutian cuisine. The noodles are amazing, and she serves herself some more. But as she’s about to dig in, she thinks back on Yuffie’s words and the golden era that Wutai dreams of.

“I know we’re not negotiating anything yet, and I’m really enjoying our lunch,” Elena starts, breaking the silence and putting down her chopsticks, “but I do want to say one thing, if that’s alright.”

Yuffie shrugs. “Go for it.”

“The President and Tseng throw around words like ‘atonement’ and ‘peace,’ and I don’t know how much of that is for publicity,” Elena admits, “but I’m on your side. It doesn’t really matter if it’s publicity anyway, since the end goal still benefits you. I think if you give the more stoic side of our team a chance, they’ll surprise you.”

“You really believe in this mission, huh…” Yuffie trails off, refilling her tea. “I mean, I’m enjoying lunch too, and you seem decent, but I don't know. You’re all still… you know?”

Elena nods. “It’s alright. It’s hard to take things at face value from a Turk, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> elena and yuffie should be friends: the fic

**Author's Note:**

> if y'all like my writing, you should hmu on twitter! i'm [@piperEXE](https://twitter.com/piperEXE) :3


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